


Three first kisses and two second ones

by rustypeopleskillz



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, M/M, Minor Spock/Nyota Uhura, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 07:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14397132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustypeopleskillz/pseuds/rustypeopleskillz
Summary: Three kisses when the time wasn't right, and two when it was perfect.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [McSpirk Week](https://mcspirkweek.tumblr.com/) over at Tumblr. 
> 
> For some reason, I did not include the events of Beyond in this fic, even though I love it the most and it would have been a perfect "first kiss" moment for Bones and Spock. I blame my brain. 
> 
> Referenced character death in the form of Into Darkness happenings. Brief infidelity moment, for details see end notes.

**Bones and Jim**  
Two weeks into his first year at the Academy, Jim crashes hard. Up until then he was been on a constant New Place high. He’s gone to all his classes, flirted with anyone and everyone, found out he enjoys studying when there’s actual challenge involved, and just generally taken to cadet life like a fish to water. Two weeks in, he’s sitting in one of the Academy lounges, chatting with a group of cadets who take some of the same classes as him, and someone asks about his dad.

It’s not the first time that question has come up since he got here. Of course not. He has lived in the shadow of his father’s heroism his whole life, and if anything, Iowa was a breeze compared to Starfleet’s young and eager new recruits wanting to know about their own history. He’s not sure what it is about this time that hits him so hard, but he makes up an excuse and leaves with a buzz in his ears. 

He spends the evening alone in a bar. He doesn’t try to pick someone up. Hell, he doesn’t even pay attention to who’s there. He just sits in a corner and drinks. 

He’s drunk enough to be unsteady, listing to the right and not caring, when someone sits down in front of him. 

“Hey, kid.”

He blinks, tries to focus. 

“Bones!” He hasn’t seen Bones since their shuttle ride together, and if anything he looks more disreputable now than he did then. His stubble is on its way to a beard, but not quite there yet, and he has rings under his eyes so dark it makes Jim want to wince. 

“You’re gonna go with that nickname, huh?” Bones says wryly, sipping on his drink. 

“It suits you,” Jim says, unapologetic. He squints, trying to think through the alcoholic haze. “Why do you look like shit?” he asks, leaning forward to poke at Bones’ face. 

Bones snorts and lets Jim poke. 

“Thanks a lot.” He doesn’t answer for so long that Jim forgets he asked a question. “I haven’t been sleeping.”

Jim nods sagely, leaning his head in his hand. 

“You do have that not sleeping look,” he says somberly. 

Bones laughs at that, low and reluctant. Jim loves the sound of it. 

“I hate space,” Bones admits after a minute, shrugging. “And yet here I am, willingly studying so I can go into space.”

“But Bones,” Jim protest, because this must be rectified. “Bones. Space is awesome.” There, that will convince him. 

Bones shakes his head like he doesn’t believe Jim, but he’s laughing again and Jim will take it.

“You are so drunk.” 

“Yeah,” Jim admits. “You should kiss me.” 

Bones blinks at him, but Jim doesn’t miss the way his eyes snap down to Jim’s lips for a second. Heat spreads through his gut, low and intense. He leans forward, like he’s about to reveal a secret. 

“I’m a really good kisser,” he says, putting his hand on Bones’ arm. Bones doesn’t shake it off.

“I bet your are,” he says, raising an eyebrow. He gulps down the rest of his drink, gets to his feet and stretches out a hand to Jim. He’s not overly steady on his feet either, so together they wobble and weave their way out of the bar. 

They kiss in a back alley, neon painting Bones’ skin blue and purple, his half formed beard rough against Jim’s skin. The kiss tastes of bourbon and it sends heat prickling over Jim’s skin, eager and dizzying. Then Bones pulls back, hands steady on Jim’s hips for a second before he takes those away too. 

“I can’t,” he says, not looking Jim in the eye. “It’s too soon.” 

Jim swallows, tries not to chase after his lips. His slightly red, kiss swollen lips. 

“Alright,” he says, trying to get his voice to work normally. Trying not to wobble. He thinks for a moment, takes a step back. “Friends?”

Bones looks up then, smiles a little in what might be relief. 

“Yeah,” he says, extending a hand. Jim takes it, trying not to feel rejected. “Friends.”

 **Jim and Spock**  
Spock is present when Jim comes back to life. He’s present when Doctor McCoy administers the serum with shaking hands. Spock tries not to look at the way the light catches in McCoy’s eyes more than usual, the way unshed tears are glinting there. McCoy steps back, standing next to Spock, and they both watch as nothing happens.

Nothing happens. 

Still nothing happens. McCoy starts to shake next to Spock. 

“Shit,” he says, but it’s far away. Spock doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to acknowledge McCoy’s despair, doesn’t want to realize what it means. He can’t.

And then something happens. A beep. A breath.

McCoy is at Jim’s side in a second, tricorder sweeping over his body. 

“Please, please, please,” he keeps saying. Spock echoes it silently. Finally, McCoy turns to him, and the unshed tears are shed now, wet tracks down his face, but he’s smiling. He’s smiling, and before Spock knows what’s happening, he’s hugging Spock. 

“He’s… he’s alive, Spock,” McCoy says, laughing against Spock’s shoulder and pushing away before Spock can more than lift his arms halfway to return the embrace. “Shit. The bastard’s alive.” McCoy pulls his hands through his hair, meets Spock’s eyes. He must see something there, because his face softens. “He’ll be okay, Spock.”

Spock nods, isn’t sure he would be able to speak even if he could think of something to say. They both turn to look at Jim, at his chest rising and falling, the machines around him beeping and blinking with life signs. The tight knot eases in Spock’s chest, and he lets out a breath that feels like it’s been held since Jim’s hand fell away from the glass. 

“Thank you, Doctor,” he finally says. He means it more than he’s meant anything before in his life. 

*

Spock is present when Jim wakes up, but he isn’t present when Jim decides to take an unsupervised walk around the hospital. He’s alerted to this development by McCoy shouting through his communicator about asshole captains and their disregard for their own safety. Spock promises to help look, heart thudding hard in his side. McCoy’s worry is infectious.

He finds Jim on the roof. He’s still in his hospital gown, and he looks small in a way Spock has never seen him before. He’s looking up at the sky, his face pale with exhaustion. 

“Jim,” Spock says, and Jim startles, whirling around to face him. 

“Spock,” he says dumbly, then seems to shake himself. “Hey, Spock. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Jim, Doctor McCoy is worried about you. It is inadvisable to walk around alone after what you have been through.” 

Jim makes a face, scratching at the back of his head. 

“I know,” he admits, shuffling his bare feet. Spock wants to force socks on him and never let him out of his sight again. “I just… I needed to see the sky. I couldn’t think in there.” 

Spock approaches, noting Jim’s bare arms, the way his shoulders are slumped and his hair is unwashed and ruffled. The way his chest rises and falls, rises and falls. Jim watches his approach with something wild and desperate in his eyes, something Spock hasn’t seen there before. Before Spock can ask what is wrong, Jim steps forward and grabs him by the shoulders, hesitates for half a second, and then leans in to press a soft kiss against Spock’s lips. 

Spock stiffens. His brain stops thinking, and all he can feel is the softness of Jim’s slightly chapped lips, the solidness of his back under Spock’s hands (when did he move his hands?), the taste of Jim’s tongue against his. He’s kissed people before, of course he has, but suddenly it feels like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s like he’s completely new to this, like he didn’t just kiss Nyota two point four days ago. 

It’s the thought of Nyota that pulls him back. He finds that he doesn’t want to, but nor does he want to hurt her. Jim doesn’t look him in the eye when he pulls back, just leans his forehead against Spock’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He squeezes Spock’s shoulders, takes a deep breath. Spock lets his hands fall from Jim’s back. 

“I am with Nyota,” he says, and Jim nods. 

“I know. Shit.” He looks up then, and his eyes are blue and alive and mournful. “I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have done that. I hope I didn’t screw you guys up.”

Spock hopes so too, because he can still feel Jim’s lips against his own, the ghost of a touch. 

“We should return you to your room,” Spock says, finally, and Jim lets himself be led back down, not saying a word. 

 

 **Spock and Bones**  
“C’mon, Spock, wake up.”

It is cold. The air is biting at Spock’s exposed skin, and he shudders. 

“Spock. Look at me. Damn it, man! Wake up.”

McCoy sounds angry, which Spock knows means he’s worried. That, or Spock has purposefully provoked him, but he cannot remember what he could have done. 

“Open your eyes, Spock.”

Spock obeys reluctantly. McCoy’s face blurs in and out of focus. He is frowning, and Spock should be used to that by now, but this seems different. 

“Doctor?” he says. His voice is weak. 

McCoy’s frown smooths out. He has a bruise in his cheek. And there is a dark streak across his forehead that might be blood. 

“Doctor, are you alright?” Spock asks. 

McCoy rolls his eyes. 

“Only you could wake up from being knocked unconscious and first thing you ask is if _I’m_ alright. I’m fine, you fool. You, on the other hand, got knocked so hard on the head even your hobgoblin skull couldn’t take it.” 

Oh. Spock raises his hand to touch his head, but McCoy stops him with a hand on his arm. 

“Don’t do that.”

“What happened?” Spock asks, lowering his arm. McCoy doesn’t remove his hand, and Spock finds he does not mind. It feels grounding. Steady. 

“Some sort of cave in.” McCoy peers into Spock’s eyes, in all likelihood checking his pupils to see if he has a concussion. “We’re cut off from the rest of the team, communicators are offline, and if I know him right, Jim is gonna blast his way through that wall there any minute now.” 

Spock’s lips twitch. 

“I find I agree with your assessment.”

McCoy raises both eyebrows. 

“Do you now? I think you might have hit your head harder than I thought.”

“Perhaps,” Spock agrees. 

“Well, I can’t really help you with that from here. We’ll just have to wait for Jim to rescue us and make sure you’re not filling your brain with that green blood of yours in the meantime. So. Tell me why you and Uhura broke up this time.” 

Spock blinks. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“Just tell me. I’ve been wondering ever since she started flirting with that ambassador out of the blue. When did you even break up?”

“I do not wish to discuss this, doctor.” Spock tries to sit up, but McCoy pushes him down. 

“Tough. I need to make sure your brain is working, and I want to know, so I’m gonna take advantage of the situation. Now tell me.”

Spock suppresses a sigh and gives in. 

“She and I decided to end our romantic relationship three point six months ago.” 

“...And?” 

Spock contemplates pretending to not understand, but he does not have the energy to rile the doctor up. He still hasn’t removed his hand from Spock’s arm. 

“And it was because we found that we were no longer romantically compatible. We remain friends.”

“Yeah, no, I noticed that. Wish I was that chummy with my ex.”

Spock tilts his head. He has never heard McCoy express this sentiment before. 

“You do? I was under the impression you never wanted to see her again.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t wish it ended differently. I used to like her, you know.”

“I had surmised as much,” Spock agrees, and McCoy rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, well, you don’t seem too broken up about you and Uhura ending things. Not like you’re gonna throw away everything you ever knew and go into space. I call that a win.”

Spock watches McCoy’s face in the low light, sees the pain that is still there, even now. 

“Do you regret it?” he asks without really meaning to. He finds he does not want to know the answer. That he fears a yes. Illogical. 

McCoy thinks about it for a minute, taking his hand away and fiddling with his small black bag.

“Sometimes,” he admits. “It can get awful lonely in space. But then who would stitch your fool head up? You and Jim would be dead ten times over if I had stayed on Earth.”

Spock decides not to argue that another doctor would have taken McCoy’s place, because that is not the point. He is unconvinced that another doctor would have done as good a job, anyway. He flexes his fingers, tries to shake the ghost of touch from his arm. 

“Indeed,” he says instead, looking up at the low cave ceiling. “I prefer you here.”

A beat. Then, “Now I know your brain is scrambled.” McCoy’s face comes into his line of sight, now blatantly worried. “Spock? How many fingers am I holding up?” 

“Three. I am not seeing double, Leonard. I was simply expressing my gratitude.”

“I thought gratitude was illogical.” McCoy sweeps the tricorder over Spock’s head, frowning at it. Spock reaches out to stop him, a zing traveling up his arm when skin meets skin, fingers meet fingers. McCoy’s eyes widen, and he licks his lips. “That’s… pretty intimate, Spock. For a Vulcan.”

Spock raises an eyebrow. 

“I am aware.”

McCoy’s lips twitch, and he sets down the tricorder, lets Spock’s fingers linger against his own. 

“If you regret this later, you can always blame the head trauma,” he says, turning his hands to meet Spock’s touch, forming the ta’al in response to Spock doing the same. His fingers are inexperienced but sure against Spock’s. The touch sings through Spock’s skin, warm and welcome. Before he can answer, though, the ground shakes, rocks crumble, and there is Jim. His eyes are wild, his hair dusty, and he rushes to their side already shouting into his communicator. The kiss is broken without remark from either party in the face of the captain’s worry. 

They don’t mention it again. 

**And two second ones**  
McCoy’s gut is squirming, like he’s either about to throw up, or like some outer space parasite has taken up residence in his stomach. It is not the latter. He has checked. Twice. No, he’s just nervous. Terrified, even. He hasn’t ruled out the throwing up option. 

The door to Jim’s quarters looms in front of him, gray and innocuous. Behind it, Jim and Spock are waiting for him, ready for their regular dinner. They’ve done it so many times he’s lost count. It’s a nice, relaxing routine, and McCoy might be about to ruin it. 

He reminds himself that he didn’t start this nonsense. They’re the ones who risked ruining it by entering a relationship with each other like it was no big thing. Like it didn’t punch a hole through McCoy’s chest the first time he saw them stand even closer than normal, a secretive smile on Jim’s lips and something warm in Spock’s eyes. He’d known before they told him. 

It’s not that he’s angry. He doesn’t have the right, not when he hasn’t done anything about his… well, feelings, for so long. It’s not even that he’s jealous. Not much, anyway. It’s that he wants in. 

Space must have made him crazy, he decides, taking a deep breath and pushing the button to be let in. How else would you explain him falling not only for Jim, with his disregard for danger and too blue eyes, but also for Spock. Spock, whom he liked right away, but could never stand. Spock, who kissed him in a cave and left him wanting more. Spock, who pretended it never happened and went on to kiss Jim both in caves and out of them. 

The door swishes open, and they’re both there, like they always are. Jim is seated at the table, golden command shirt thrown over the back and black undershirt looking almost indecent. Spock is by the replicator, back straight and fingers precise as he punches in the code for whatever he’s going to eat today. 

“Hey, Bones.” Jim smiles tiredly at him. Maybe tonight isn’t a good time to bring this up? Jim is tired, they shouldn’t be tired when he asks. _Quit stalling, you coward_ , he tells himself. 

“Hey, Jim. Spock.” He walks in and lets the door swish shut behind him, heart beating against his ribs like it wants out. He can relate. 

He’s not hungry, but he makes himself sidle up next to Spock and take his place when the replicator produces a steaming vegetable stew that frankly smells delicious. 

Spock’s eyes are warm, similar to when he looks at Jim, and McCoy takes courage from that. He hasn’t forgotten that kiss, how the touch of Spock’s fingers seemed to vibrate in his mind. He stops his eyes from straying to Spock’s hands, but only barely. Spock stands just a little too close for a second before taking his food to the table. 

McCoy picks something at random and fidgets while it’s being prepared. He can do this. What’s the worst that could happen? 

He wants to laugh at himself at that, because he can come up with so many worst case scenarios, and he really didn’t need the incentive. Instead, he takes a seat and clears his throat. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he says. There. No turning back now. 

They’re both facing him, and Jim puts his fork down, give McCoy his undivided attention. Spock tilts his head in that curious way of his. 

“Sure, Bones,” Jim says. 

McCoy swallows. 

“I want in,” he says, and then winces. No, that’s not how he meant to say it.

“In?” Spock asks. 

“No, I mean,” McCoy tries again, clenching his shaking hands in his lap. “What you two have. Together. I want to be a part of that. If you’d have me.”

He’s going to be sick. But he said it. He can’t look at them, so he stares at his food. He apparently ordered tomato soup. He hates tomato soup. It’s not filling at all. He didn’t even get any bread to go with it. God, he said it. Why aren’t they saying anything? 

He forces himself to look up, and Jim and Spock are having a whole conversation with their eyes. They don’t look disgusted, but McCoy knows they wouldn’t be. That’s not what he’s afraid of. He’s afraid of a gentle no. Of them not needing him. 

“Bones,” Jim says, and no, shit, no, he thought he was prepared but he’s not. He’s going to vomit, or collapse, or hyperventilate. He needs to leave now. He shouldn’t have said anything. Not knowing is better than this. 

He’s standing up, and he’s not sure when that happened. 

“Woah, Bones, calm down. Where are you going?” Jim is in front of him, hands on his shoulders, grounding him, tearing him apart. 

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” McCoy blurts, and then Spock is there too. God. 

“We would like to accept your offer, Leonard. Please do not leave.” 

McCoy shakes his head, scrunches his eyes together. His head is buzzing. 

“Bones, did you hear what he just said?” Jim asks, squeezing his shoulders. 

“No, I… what?” 

Jim smiles at him, so open and honest that McCoy can’t do anything but stare at him. 

“We’ve talked about this, some,” Jim says, blushing now. “Apparently you two kissed in a cave?”

McCoy’s head snaps up to stare at Spock, whose ears are tinted green. 

“I thought we weren’t talking about that?” he says, and Spock raises an eyebrow. 

“Since it was not you and I who talked about it, I fail to see the relevance of that statement.”

“Spock,” Jim chides, and Spock’s lips twitch. That bastard. 

“Wait.” Wait. “You… you want me in? In your relationship?” It sounds ridiculous. Unrealistic. Wonderful. 

“Indeed.” Spock steps closer, shoulder to shoulder with Jim, like they always are. McCoy loves them like that. Loves them. 

“Well, okay then,” he says. “I need to sit down.”

Jim grins at him, helps him sit down in his chair. 

“We weren’t sure you’d be interested,” he admits, sitting back down as well. “Hell, we didn’t start talking about it at all until like a week ago. But we both felt it, you know? That you would make this,” he waves a hand between Spock and himself, “better. Stronger. Whole.” 

“That is not to say that Jim and I do not have a satisfactory relationship,” Spock adds, finally sitting down himself. 

“Right! No, we just… we want you too. I want you too.”

“As do I,” Spock admits, and somehow that’s what drives it home, more than anything. Him and Spock, they don’t say shit like this to each other. Not unless they’re trapped in a cave and have plausible deniability in the form of a head wound. McCoy wants it though. Badly. 

“Good,” he says. Swallows. Nods. “I’m ready now.” He looks Jim in the eye, sees that he understands the reference. Looks over at Spock. “Space is bound to get a little less lonely, huh?”

Spock smiles with his eyes, warm and more affectionate than McCoy has ever really seen him look at anyone but Jim. It warms some cold, dark place inside him. 

“Awesome!” Jim says enthusiastically, digging into his food again. “We should probably talk about the logistics and stuff a bit, huh?” 

Spock nods, picking up his spoon. 

“That would be wise. A polyamourous relationship requires clear communication and respect.”

McCoy rolls his eyes, but smiles. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just let me enjoy the moment for one second, would you?”

“Of course, Leonard. Would you like my stew? You seem to have ordered tomato soup, and I recall you saying that, and I quote, ‘it is as vile as boiled socks and just as nutritious’.” 

Jim bursts out laughing, but McCoy gratefully trades his soup for the stew. They talk, and argue good naturedly, and discuss relationship parameters in between bites until it is late and McCoy has to leave. 

“Maybe next time,” Jim says, looking nervous now. “you could stay? If you want?” 

McCoy grins and pulls him in by the collar of his indecent black shirt. 

“I’d like that,” he says, and kisses Jim. 

It’s nothing like the first time they kissed, all those years ago. For one thing, Jim has gained some breadth in the shoulders, some bulk in general. For another, neither of them is drunk. The kiss tastes of spice from the stew and Jim’s steak, and it’s full of promise. It’s years of learning about each other, of fighting and laughing and living and dying. It strikes McCoy through the lungs, and he needs to keep kissing Jim to breathe. 

When they pull apart, they’re both panting. Jim’s lips are wet and red. McCoy forces himself to step back, or he will not be leaving this cabin tonight. Spock is a few steps away, studying them both with heat in his eyes. His back is straighter than usual, which is saying a lot, and McCoy closes the distance between them. 

“What, no kiss goodnight?” he asks, challenging. Before he can get anything else out, Spock is kissing him, mouth hungry against his. 

His hand is in McCoy’s hair, slowly making a fist and pulling at the roots. It makes McCoy’s knees weak. His skin is hotter than Jim’s, his lips so warm and welcoming that McCoy thinks he could kiss them forever. He grips Spock’s waist, a finger slipping in under the fabric. It’s a jolt of forbidden touch, no longer forbidden. He makes a noise, too overwhelmed to be embarrassed. Spock kisses him harder in response. 

They wind the kiss down reluctantly, finally just breathing the same air. McCoy can’t remember why he thought it was a good idea to leave. 

“Wow,” Jim breathes from somewhere to his right, and when he looks over, Jim’s eyes are dark and hungry. “If you’re gonna leave, Bones, you better do it now, before I decide I can’t wait until next time and jump you right here.” 

It’s a punch of arousal, searing its way through his groin, but he nods, steps back. 

“Taking it slow,” he says, trying to remind himself. 

Spock licks his lips, and that is almost McCoy’s undoing. 

“Perhaps you would like to have dinner again tomorrow evening?” he asks. 

“Yeah. Tomorrow. I’ll see you then.”

McCoy can’t sleep that whole night, but for once, it’s because he’s too happy. He can’t wait for dinner tomorrow.


	2. Alternate first kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate first kiss for Spock and Bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't fit it in but I couldn't get myself to delete it either. 
> 
> Contains infidelity again. See end notes.

Spock is there when Jim comes back to life. He’s there when Doctor McCoy administers the serum with shaking hands. Spock tries not to look at the way the light catches in McCoy’s eyes more than usual, the way unshed tears are glinting there. Tries to give him privacy. McCoy steps back, standing next to Spock, and they both watch as nothing happens. Nothing happens. 

Still nothing happens. McCoy starts to shake next to Spock. 

“Shit,” he says, but it’s far away. Spock doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to acknowledge McCoy’s despair, doesn’t want to realize what it means. 

And then something happens. 

McCoy is at Jim’s side in a second, tricorder sweeping over his body. 

“Please, please, please,” he keeps saying. Spock echoes it silently. Finally, McCoy turns to him, and the unshed tears are shed now, wet tracks down his face, but he’s smiling. He’s smiling, and before Spock knows what’s happening, he’s hugging Spock. 

“He’s… he’s alive, Spock,” McCoy says, laughing against Spock’s shoulder and pushing away before Spock can more than lift his arms halfway to return the embrace. “Shit. He’s alive.” McCoy pulls his hands through his hair, meets Spock’s eyes. He must see something there, because his face softens. “He’ll be okay, Spock.”

Spock nods, isn’t sure he would be able to speak even if he could think of something to say. They both turn to look at Jim, at his chest rising and falling, the machines around him beeping and blinking with life signs. Something eases in Spock’s chest, and he lets out a breath that feels like it’s been held since Jim’s hand fell away from the glass. 

“Thank you, Doctor,” he finally says. He means it more than he’s meant anything before in his life. 

McCoy lets out a shaky breath and grabs Spock’s shoulder. His hand is firm and grounding, and before Spock can think too hard about it, he pulls McCoy in, kisses him. The kiss is wet from McCoy’s tears and maybe a few of his own. It’s relief and gratitude, emotions he should not be entertaining but cannot seem to care enough to suppress. Jim is alive. Jim was dead, and it destroyed something in Spock but now he’s alive and maybe Spock will be able to heal. McCoy has saved more than one person today. 

The kiss deepens with McCoy’s desperation, his hands holding on to the sides of Spock’s neck, his lips and tongue insistent, demanding. Spock does not know if this is relief or something else, if they really would be kissing if Jim had never died. The thought makes him pull back. His hands are gripping McCoy’s arms, too tight and probably leaving bruises. He can’t bring himself to let go just yet. 

“I am with Nyota,” he reminds himself, and the guilt chases the desire away. He does not want to hurt her. 

McCoy steps back as if he has been burned. 

“Shit.” It is all he says, and he looks at Spock’s face pleadingly. “I’m sorry.”

“You are not at fault,” Spock says, straightening his spine and forcing his hands behind his back. They want to reach out and pull the doctor back in. He casts a glance at Jim, and the steady rise and fall of his chest. “Emotions were running high.”

“Yeah,” McCoy agrees, pulling a hand through his hair. “Yeah, they were.” He turns back to Jim, hand reaching out to feel for his pulse, even though there are perfectly adequate machines displaying many numbers relating to blood pressure and beats per minute. Spock resists the urge to do the same. Jim is alive. 

He leaves McCoy there with Jim. He will return soon, but he needs a few minutes to collect himself, to contact Nyota and tell her of his indiscretion. He needs to eradicate the remembered sensation of McCoy’s lips against his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spock kisses Bones even though he is in a relationship with Uhura. If this makes you uncomforatable, maybe skip this one.

**Author's Note:**

> Spock and Jim kiss when Spock is still in a relationship with Uhura. Spock stops it right away and is regretful, but if you're like me and that sort of thing bothers you, maybe skip that part. 
> 
> Come hang out with me on [Tumblr](http://rustypeopleskillz.tumblr.com/). I reblog lots of Star Trek and have feelings.


End file.
